


Always the Moon and The Faceless God

by triesquid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Immune, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Mythology - Freeform, Pack, Pack Family, Pack Feels, Spark, Spark!Stiles, The Crone - Freeform, The Faceless God, The Guardian - Freeform, The Guide - Freeform, The Moon - Freeform, The Warrior, allegorical Derek and Stiles, etiological myth, immune!Lydia (by implication), little human stories, little pack stories, little wolf stories, mythological appropriation, storyteller!derek, storyteller!stiles, the faceless god!stiles, the moon!Derek, weird embedded mercedes lackey references if you can catch them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:52:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triesquid/pseuds/triesquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On certain nights of the Moon, the Pack told stories.  </p>
<p>On the Full Moon, Derek told the old stories of the Packs; on the New Moon, Stiles told the old stories how humans had become Pack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always the Moon and The Faceless God

**Author's Note:**

> So, I love mythology, and I really enjoy in this fandom when people create the mythology of the wolves. But, what about the humans who are part of the Packs? How did they become part of the Packs? What is their etiological myth(s)?
> 
> So, this.
> 
> I've had the name "The Faceless God" wandering about in my head. I'm not sure what it means, but there it is.
> 
> This is tagged for Stiles/Derek pairing, but it's a really subtle, mythologically and _narratively_ structured pairing that--should I continue along in this line--will likely become more overt, more explicit.
> 
> IT'S WEIRD! I'M SO SORRY!

The wolves had their own gods, mixed up amongst and over and under and 'tween the human gods, hidden in plain sight just like the wolves were.

Their gods were always the Moon in all of the Moon's various incarnations:  Masculine, Feminine, born of Death and Darkness, and sibling of the Sun and the Dawn and the Light.

But, in all the stories—all the versions that were passed amongst the wolves through years and generations and migrations and holocausts—all the little wolf stories that Derek told to the Pack on the restless nights of the Full Moon, when the wolves were seething with the power of the Warrior and the Guardian—attack and defense, wisdom and folly, strategy and loss—and needed to be settled and, in settling them, reminded that they had stories too, that becoming a wolf didn't mean that one lacked a history, a culture, a past.

In all of those stories, there was always the Moon, and there was always The One Who the Moon Loved—man, woman, wolf, god, it didn't matter—there was always someone that the Moon loved so much that the Moon changed them or granted them a boon or lead them to safety, peace, and sanity.

Those were good nights with the sighing-settling of the young wolves and the sweetly-soft humans of the Pack listening with large, awed eyes in an enthralled silence.

Even Stiles.

Even Stiles was silent.

A minor miracle.

And, then there were the nights of the New Moon when the Moon was the Crone and The Guide come to the fullness of their lives and the height of their wisdoms; on those nights, Stiles told the stories of The Faceless God:  the God of the Spark, the God of the Immune, the God of Multiple Paths.

On those nights, Stiles wove word-magic conjuring up the inclusivity of The Faceless God, existing as nothing and everything, impossible and possible at the same time, the completeness of the Masculine and the Feminine and yet bound by neither, existing as man and woman and everything in-between, yet was none of these and all of these in the same breathe.

Everything.

Nothing.

All Things.

That was The Faceless God:  the God of the Spark, the God of the Immune, the God of Multiple Paths.

A god who wasn't a god and wasn't a goddess.

A god who existed purely in imagination and abyssal emptiness and possibility.

And, like the Moon—the true Moon who waxed and waned and became and was undone in cycles and echoes and sleepless nights and was what the people needed the Moon to be—The Faceless God could be found in the Oldest of Old Stories, subtle traces painted over by cultural migrations and enforced patriarchy and millenniums of oppression.

Once upon a time, the Moon and The Faceless God were one and the same and all the world loved them and despaired because how could anyone ever think to tear them from each other.

But they did.

Younger, more dogmatic, limited divinities—the Harsh Gods, the Hating Gods, the Gods of the Hunters—tore them from each other and built barriers between the Sky and the Earth and the Ocean and the Flame so that there was no way that the Moon and The Faceless God could find each other again.

But the Moon and The Faceless God were clever—so much more clever than anyone really had given them credit for—and the Moon lead humans to Packs and The Faceless God gave the Spark and it's sibling Immunity to the humans so that they could claim a Place in the Packs, and the Packs listened to their Mother-Father Moon when the Moon said "These humans are a gift to you; care for them as you would your most favored Beloveds."  

And the wolves did and the spark-humans and the immune-humans were taken into the Packs and given places of Honor and Safety, and in turn, the spark-humans and the immune-humans took care of the Packs, were their eyes in places they could not go, were their Anchors when young control was at its most tenuous, were their Mates when that was what their beloved wolves needed.

In bringing the Packs to the humans and the humans to the Packs and blending spark and immunity and wolf into one cohesive whole, the Moon and The Faceless God were made one again.

And, these were good nights too, when the wolves learned that there were protectors—anciently charged and bound by love and duty--who lived hidden amongst the humans, who were there—would always be there—for the Packs.  These were also the nights that the humans learned that their Places in the Pack were solidified and chosen for them long before they were born, in the Earliest of Early Times, and were there and present and  _theirs_  should they so chose to accept them.

The Pack listening, silent and awed, and the humans shocked and pleased to know that they had always been meant to be here, to be Pack.

There were unshed tears in each member of the Pack's eyes.

Even Derek's.

Even Derek was moved to tears and trust.

And that was a minor miracle too.


End file.
